Taaj-o

There has been a lot of discussion lately on a listserv about competing based on price. The consensus is that you can’t compete with dancers who undercut. You know what? That’s right. You can’t. So why bother trying? The better strategy is to let your brand speak for you so that you can compete on value and service.

I can see you scratching your head and saying, “What the heck are you talking about, Taaj?” Let me explain. “Branding” is the sum total of what people think about you when they see your face and hear your name so you have to cultivate this carefully. If there is no image when your name is heard, that’s the first place to start. Let this be intentional, not haphazard.

Decide what is most important- the thing that absolutely sets you aside from your competition and cultivate that image. If there are other important things, let those things be secondary. For example, “Taaj, the belly dance trainer” is a teacher’s teacher. Why? Because the title says so. Because my website says so. I am the person you go to to be a better dancer and business woman. Why take my word for it? Because I have a gallery of 12 award winning students from 2002 to the present on my website. Because my website has scores of testimonials from raving fans saying how happy they are with my work.

“Taaj’s Tribe” is all about professionalism. We are in the highest profile venues. We are on time. I give the client exactly what they want and continue to check with them to make sure that they are happy. We deliver a quality product time after time and strive to make each performance special. We can do a variety of things in a variety of venues. The dancers have the highest level of training. We have the look that they are looking for so that they never feel compelled to look elsewhere. This gets us jobs. This keeps us jobs.

There truly is no competition for Taaj’s Tribe or Taaj, the belly dance trainer. If you want something else, you are going to go to someone else. If you want what I have to offer, you come here. THAT’S what your brand should say about you. It needs to be a strong, definitive statement.

It needs to set you apart in some way from your competition. It needs to compel your prospective client to say, “Yes, that’s what I want.”

Think about it. When “it positively has to be there overnight”, who do you call? The post office? No, it’s FedEx. What food is “finger lickin’ good?” What product would you spend extra for “because I’m worth it.” Which deodorant asks you to “raise your hand if you’re sure?” If you could identify slogans from Kentucky Fried Chicken, L’Oreal, and Sure, you are proof that the branding for these companies work.

So what does branding have to do with price? When you have a brand that is identifiable, sets you apart from the rest, tells your client what you have to offer, and there is a market for this product, you don’t have to work for low-ball prices. You don’t have to work as hard to get each client. You can charge MORE because you have a higher perceived value. The result is you make more money with each gig. You also don’t have to work as hard to get each client because a happy, high paying client is more likely to refer other high-paying clients to you.

Will there still be undercutting dancers out there trying to get your jobs? Of course, but they aren’t realistically in the same market as you. They aren’t competing for the same jobs. There will always be clients looking for cheap dancers, and dancers who are willing to dance cheaply. Like attracts like and those sorts tend to find each other. Don’t target that clientele because that’s not your market.

Those who want a low price want a low price. It doesn’t pay to lower your price or match theirs. Competing by price hurts everyone because there is always someone who will go even lower. This not only drives down price, but drives down the perceived value of what you do for the entire community.

Bottom line- consciously create a brand and compete on value and service, not price. Be patient. Building a brand takes time. There will be a lot of trial and error. It is built on your body of work and the effort you put into sculpting it into something that says, “This is who I am. This is what I can do for you. Here’s why you need look no further.” If you do this consciously, you will have a product for which there is no comparison. The cheap dancers of the world will NOT be able to compete with you in value or service. And that’s how you knock out the competition.

If you are a stage performer, troupe member or member of a theater production, choreography is a MUST! You can’t go out there without it if you want a cohesive, intricate piece that is reproducible and creates a predictable effect over and over again.

Choreography even has its place in the classroom. It gives form to compositions and helps students to see how to put together a piece from start to finish. It gives students a sense of accomplishment (whereas an improvised piece is never truly “done.”) It is handy for teaching how to use elements or for pulling elements out of a whole and putting them elsewhere.

The thing I am arguing against is the over-reliance on choreography as the sole teaching tool or the sole performance method in a venue that doesn’t require choreography. In other words, don’t dance solely with a choreography crutch.

If you can’t improvise, are you truly a dancer? Can a piano player play without sheet music? Can a writer write without instructions? Can a painter paint without directions? Can a sculptor sculpt without a teacher telling him what to do in advance?

What I am trying to say is that art requires some sort of skill development. That skill is both technical and logical. If all you are teaching is choreography, it’s like telling a story and then instructing your students to give it back to you. It does build some skill, but not enough to teach the student how to write independently. If the student can’t write independently, is he truly a writer?

In order to dance improvisationally with skill (because some people can do this spontaneously, but without any skill whatsoever), you have to know how to think and feel. I don’t believe choreography is the best way to teach either of those things, nor does it develop confidence in the ability to be spontaneous, feel, or explore.

Choreography is almost a no-fail way of teaching. Students have to have the room to fail in order to learn to succeed. By learning what doesn’t work, you learn what does. If all you have is choreography, you may have something that works, but you don’t know why, so you can’t really do it again reliably. And what happens when something goes wrong with the choreography? How do you recover?

One of my favorite belly dance stories is about Nagwa Fuad. I heard that she was in the middle of a show when something happened and she lost sound. (Not sure how that could happen with a live band, but anyway…) Being a trooper and believing that the show must go on, the drummer picked up where the band left off. He and she did the first ever live drum solo and it’s been emulated ever since. That moment in history (assuming it really is history) could never have happened had either of them been sheet music reading, choreography dancing performers.

Improv is a necessary skill if you want to be a good dancer. Use choreography when it is required and improv when the venue best suits that. Both will be enhanced if you are good at both.

To learn more about the BDT method of choreography or improvisation, get my book Shake Your Booty. Both methods require a solid knowledge of dance and music basics. Lessons on those topics are also included on that page.

Wednesday, my first day in Cairo, started with a midnight arrival. As we flew over the city, I was in awe over how big it was. It seemed we flew for miles and miles before we touched down. The lights chased away any fatigue I had been feeling. Excitement raced though me as I walked down through the dark and dingy hallways of the airport.

First stop was passport check. People milled around and stood wherever they thought they could, with no regard for the line. As a result, even though I was not far back, it took a while to get to the head of the line and be processed. Standing on the other side of the line were drivers holdings signs for groups and individuals. Though the driver from the hotel was supposed to meet me, he was not among these sign carrying men. I walked through the baggage claim area hoping to find him there. There were a few sign-holders out there, but not my driver.

I knew the flight had arrived early, so I was not in a panic yet. I looked around for a pay phone, but realized I didn’t have any Egyptian money even if I could find a phone. I asked around and was escorted to a cambio and to a phone. Apparently there were no pay phones in the airport because I was offered the one at a travel agency.

I called the hotel twice and twice they assured me a driver was being dispatched, but after waiting 3 hours, I realized something had to be done. I decided not to stay at the hotel where I had a reservation since they treated me so horribly thus far. I was meeting two other dancers from the states, so I thought I’d just stay at their hotel. It was air conditioned and had cable, so it should be alright. After negotiating the price of the room and the driver with a friendly travel agent, Badr, we took off for the hotel.

The ride through the Cairo night was exciting. As we crossed the Nile, I sucked in my breath at the wonder of it all. I was in Cairo! Badr watched, delighting in my enthusiasm, as I grinned like a fool. He must have thought me stupid, but it felt great to be there.

Through dark alleyways and crooked streets we drove stopping in front of a shadowed building. The hotel was smaller and darker than I would have thought. Decorated like the inside of a temple, it gave me a lot to look at while the desk clerk tried to locate my dance friends, Danielle and Daleela.

Surprise! Danielle and Daleela were not at this hotel. Uh oh. What do I do now? I was too tired to deal with it then. I just wanted to sleep. I took the room key and followed the bellman to a doorway.

The door was actually an elevator, which opened to reveal a space just large enough for me, the bellman, and my two pieces of luggage . We stood cramped in that space for a few moments, then the doors opened. So, this is where would spend the night. hm. The dark hallway ended at my door and opened to another dark room. Heavy velvet curtains dangled from their rods, half on half off the window. The small television with the crooked antennae didn’t look like it could produce much of a picture. A tiny bed was covered with thin, lumpy cushion which passed for a mattress. I pulled back the covers to check for foreign creatures before getting in. Well, they advertised air conditioning, cable tv, and a private bath. It did have that. (sigh)

Though it was certainly not paradise, at 4:00 a.m., I was not about to argue. I would look for something else later.
I woke not many hours later, but too late for breakfast. As I walked into the restaurant, you would have thought I was from another planet the way the few male patrons were staring at me. Unaccustomed to such stares, I decided to get some bottled water and go back to my room. There I called the only contact I had in Egypt, Ahmed Khalil.

Ahmed was happy that I called. It seemed when Danielle and Daleela got to the hotel, they were not as eager to stay as I and made reservations elsewhere. Ahmed said he would send a taxi at 11:30 and take me to them. Relief flooded my mind. Ah!
At 11:25, the phone rang. Ahmed was here. I had heard about Egyptians not being on time for anything, so I was very pleased. I didn’t want to stay here any longer than necessary. Ahmed greeted me warmly and off we went.

When I got to the Hotel Victoria, I was pleasantly surprised. It was much nicer than the place I left and lots cheaper too.
I met the chattery Danielle and Daleela for the first time, got settled in, then we were all off for our excursion to Mohamed Ali Street.

Ahmed decided that we would walk as it was not far. The traffic was maddening, so we stayed close behind him. He walked fast, but Danielle and Daleela wanted to saunter along checking out different architecture and all the fascinating sights of life in the city. They took pictures of the laundry hanging out the windows far above the streets. They took pictures of donkeys pulling produce, furniture sitting out on the sidewalks, bicyclist with huge trays of bread on their heads, and of each other, all while trying to not get hit by the aggressive drivers.

We made slow progress, but enjoyed the walk. Our first stop was the post card seller. With so many different things to chose from, it was hard to pick out just a few. Each vendor had something slightly different, so we looked at everything. Kids in candy stores.

Once we crossed over to Mohamed Ali Street, there was an electricity in the air that seemed to be more than just our own excitement. We oohed and ah-ed as we passed the music stores. Ahmed shared bits and pieces of the history with us, enriching our experience. Inside a dark and winding stairwell, we walked up to Raks Sharki magazine and met the owner. He gave us copies of his latest issues and offered hot tea. Daleela and Danielle shopped in his costuming boutique, trying on this and that and asking advice about color and fit. We must have spent a lot of time there.

Right next door was a famous drum maker, Hasan Hasan Ali. He had pictures of himself with many famous dancers and musicians. His drums were of superior quality, and we were suitably impressed.

Our next stop was Madame Hekmat’s house. We risked our lives once again crossing the street, but made it in one piece. Up another set of winding, steep stairs was Madame Hekmat’s house. She was very happy and surprised to see us. She offered us tea, and we went about looking at all her beautiful work while she enjoyed a copy of Zaghareet!, which featured an article about her! I could not resist the quality and beauty of one of her costumes. Soon I was the proud owner of a Madame Hekmat design!
We did not stay long as Danielle was near fainting with hunger. Ahmed took us to a local restaurant where we feasted on salad, hummous, bread, rice, chicken, and lamb, all for less than $5. The room was clean and dark with huge windows which opened to the open air. We spoke of what we would do that evening, while the dark haired, dark eyed waiters stared at us. They took turns pronouncing our names, “Dah-lee-la, Teg, and Sam-ee-ah Ga-mal”, they laughed. The taller one walked us out while trying to whisper something in Danielle’s ear. That blonde hair got them every time!

From there we took the subway to the bazaar. The subway was like any other, except that we were not allowed to take pictures there. (Tourists! They want to take pictures of everything). Inside the train, we were surrounded by more men with staring eye balls.

At Khan el Khalili, we went to the Bedouin shop and looked at all the fancy bedouin jewelry and clothes. The owner took us up stairs to his secret hideaway where he kept his real goodies. Wow. I was impressed. There were all kinds of ethnic wear there. Very nice indeed. We played for a long time while he brought out more and more tempting items.
There were lots of souvenirs in the bazaar. It was full of beautiful things, full of useless things. Some very nice copies of the artifacts found in the tombs were for sale. I was too tired to bargain, so I left without getting anything. We took a taxi back to the hotel to get ready for Ahmed’s surprise.

Riding in a taxi is risking death. The drivers there have no regard for red lights or white lines dividing the roads into lanes. Pedestrians walk right out in front of you, and progress is made fairly slowly. I am not sure if I felt safer after walking or riding, but Daleela was so fascinated with the trip, that she video taped it. Evidence for those who would not believe our tales!

We arrived back at the hotel with only a few minutes to freshen up, then we were on our way to the surprise. We climbed up wide and dark stairs, passing people who appeared to be waiting in line for the same destination as us. Somehow we got right past them and into a T-shaped room full of people. We found seats on the floor and looked around in wonder at what could be happening there. We spied the high ceilings, carpeted walls, mosaic walls, and dusty floor. Intriguing, but it didn’t give us any clue to what was going on.

Though the room was already packed, in the few minutes we waited in anticipation, even more people were let in to further crowd us. Whatever it was, it must be something pretty spectacular.

Finally it began with a drum. Dervishes! Drums and sagat were the only accompaniment, but each soloist showed off his expertise then joined the group. The music was fabulous. The spinning was fabulous, but what made this choreographed presentation so wonderful was the absolute ecstacy on the faces of the dancers. To watch was to be drawn into the ecstacy yourself. It went far beyond the ecstacy of perhaps being with a lover, but was more like the ecstacy of being at one with God and the universe. I felt like I was spying on something so personal and sacred. It was truly heavenly.

Once everyone began filing out, we lingered to get our picture taken with the spinners and to compliment them on a job well done. They seemed genuinely pleased at the attention and were very warm. They were alarmingly humble. I could not believe that they did not receive this kind of adoration all the time.

The day had been packed full of wonderful things, but it was not yet over for us. After returning to the hotel, we changed into our evening finery and were off to The Meridian to see Dina’s show. A luxury taxi awaited, and we traveled in style.
The Meridian was a five star hotel fit for a five star dancer. The pictures of Dina and the singer, Ihab Tawfik in the lobby announced their appearance and gave me a feeling of dreaming. Could I really be here?

Up the mirror lined elevator we went to the top floor. The restaurant had a spectacular view of the Nile. Lit up like this, it looked like paradise. Giddy from all that had happened so far, and all that was unfolding around me, I could not believe life could be this good and exciting. Here we were among Cairo’s beautiful people!

There was a singer on stage entertaining rather discreetly while we waited for our dinner to arrive. When the soup was served, I was disappointed by its lack of flavor, but everyone else seemed to be enjoying their appetizers. The main course was slow to follow, and when it arrived at 1:45, we were all starving, and it was cold. My flat, dry-looking fish, accompanied by an uninteresting looking lump of rice didn’t look very good, but Le Meridian chefs must know a way of cooking that I didn’t. One taste cured me of that notion. No, it was as dry and tasteless as it looked.

It didn’t matter too much though because we were not there for the food. We were there for Dina. We sat excitedly looking around when her band began playing, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. Suddenly, she ran on stage like a glittering track star. This dancer in a sequinless, ruby costume simply adorned with borealis was not what I expected.

I have seen Dina on video and thought she would walk around mostly doing a dance move here and there. She did do that, but
it was the way she did it that was so endearing. She shone on stage. She knew we were there for her, not the food, not the singer, not the atmosphere, but for her. She smiled ever so sweetly and played with the audience. Wow. She certainly had it- star power!

Dina’s costuming “normalcy” was not to be long-lived. Each costume was less modest and less appealing than the last. The first was pretty simple, yet elegant. The next was an orange, spandex-y type evening dress with a plunging neckline made modest by flesh colored insets. There were hip high slits over each healthy leg and as she spun, she showed her flesh colored biker pants underneath.

The next costume was tight and white with white mesh in places. This one was a bit over the edge in that the mesh was sometimes in places not meant to be seen. Dina’s final costume was black spandex. The skirt was low cut, revealing, what seemed to be silver sequined underpants! But no, they weren’t panties. They were connected to her half sequined bra. It is very hard to describe. It’s something that has to be seen to be believed.

As for Dina’s dancing, she connected solidly with the audience and simply wept with emotion. At times it seemed rehearsed rather than real because it was so exaggerated. But, the audience loved it. I must admit, I was also overcome. She snared me in her web, a wiggling bug ready to die for her. She has a magic that cannot be duplicated on video. It must be seen to be appreciated. She had me on my knees.

We were so star struck and deliriously happy that we didn’t even think of trying to meet Dina, but we got our chance anyway. In an ugly incident I prefer to keep private, the love and devotion we felt for this star was dashed to bits. I was so disturbed by the turn of events that I could not fully enjoy the dashing, young singer, Ihab Tawfik, who came on stage after Dina.

My attention was focused back on stage when Ihab pulled a woman out of the audience and brought her on stage for a dance. She was a freak! Braless in a tight lycra dress, she seemed to be trying to do an imitation of Dina, but was horribly outclassed. I don’t think she knew it though. With that bit of surprising unpleasantness, we left the luxury of the Cairo beautiful people into the streets of the real people.

When we passed three sleeping children on the bare concrete curled up like donuts, Danielle burst into tears and woke the largest to give him money. Soon Daleela was also in tears and pulling at her purse. The barefooted children all began crying and kissing our hands. The cab driver began getting impatient, so he ran over and kicked them and told them to move on. He told us not to worry, they were “finished” anyway. Ahmed said good-night there and we drove off to our hotel.
The day’s events left us exhausted by the highs and lows of extreme poverty and riches, extreme kindness and avarice.With so many emotions crashing in on us, we had to unwind. We spoke of the snobbiness of Dina, the well-meaning but suffocating kindness of Ahmed and everything in between. Finally, the muezzin’s call to prayer signaled our bedtime and we let go of the events of the day.

I wished the night had ended with the high of Dina leaving the stage, but the experience was so like Egypt itself, a tangled mass of ugliness, beauty, and confusion. Experiencing Cairo assaulted my senses. I didn’t have the chance to process one thing before I was challenged with something else. …and that was just the first day…

Day two arrived for us at 2:00 in the afternoon. Danielle was simply exhausted and decided to stay in bed and recuperate. Daleela and I decided to walked down to Mohamed Ali Street, confident that we could find the way. After a few blocks, uncertainty overcame me. We stopped to ask directions, but got a few different answers. Then two western dressed, young guys appeared and offered to show us the way. They chatted amicably and offered to lead us to Raks Sharki, though they were not quite sure exactly where it was either. Once we got to our destination, the friendlier guy decided he was entitled to payment for his services and asked for 15 pounds! Daleela offered him 13 saying she did not have the proper change, but he pointed out that she did have the right amount and waited for his money. Though we mistook his business arrangement for kindness, we were wising up to the ways of Cairo and would not make that mistake again. Needless to say, we found our own way back.

We went in search for food then. Without a translator, guide, or any sense of where anything was, that could have been quite an adventure. Luckily, we got a good tip from the doorman and found a sit-down restaurant near the metro. We walked across the sawdust strewn floor to our table and with unmatched, torn plastic chairs happy to be there. The wash area was filthy and the dirt from the road wafted up to meet us, but we were in Cairo!

We were served a delicious smelling salad (which I didn’t eat for fear of getting ill), bread, hummous, and grilled chicken. The attractive, dark eyed waiter was very polite and attentive, smiling when he didn’t understand us. Daleela and I shared small talk and stories of our respective dance communities while enjoying the high of being in Egypt eating real Egyptian food with real Egyptian people.

When it came time to pay the bill, we were charged 9 pounds ($2.65 US) each. Ah! We paid 15 pounds for lunch the day before and paid the cab driver 10 pounds for a ride the night before. Eyebrows were beginning to rise. With no set prices, we were on our own trying to figure out exactly what was a good price for things and what was not. We were catching on.
Back at the hotel, we needed to make arrangements for an escort. Walking to a restaurant and to Mohamed Ali Street was one thing, but if we wanted to go to see any more dancing, we’d have to be properly escorted. Luckily for us, Danielle and Daleela met a nice Englishman their first night here, and he happened to be available and have friends!

Though we did not inform them of our plans ahead of time, we took our escorts to Le Meridian where we hoped to see Fifi Abdo. We knew we didn’t have a reservation and that the place was full, but we were given the hope of a cancellation. We waited and waited in the lounge. It was getting later and later. The maitre d’ told us Fifi would be performing the following night, so we were ready to give up and try then.

As Daleela was going up to leave a magazine and a number for them to contact us, Fifi walked right up! Fifi was very approachable and agreeable to being interviewed. In fact, she invited us to be her guest at the show the following night and offered to bring us to her house afterward for the interview. We were ecstatic! What luck!

On that high, we were content to leave the hotel and search for some belly dancing. Since the night was still young (1:00 a.m.), we thought we had a chance of catching Jasmine, a pretty, British dancer we’d met the night before at the Tanoura show. We were told she was performing down the street at the Shepherd Hotel. She wasn’t. We did a mini wild goose chase before settling down at Jackie’s, a posh nightclub at the Nile Hilton.

Jackie’s was very international in music, clientele, and atmosphere. You’d never know you were in the Middle East, it was so like a big city western night club. The same rules which apply to Cairenes did not apply here among the beautiful people. Men and women danced together, touched, and drank liquor. Karaoke is big here with private rooms just for that purpose. Strange contrast to what was going on in the rest of the world No Arabic music was played at all. Though Daleela requested an Amr Diab song, she had little chance of hearing it, and the d.j. told her so. Ah well, we could do the American thing for one night. We called it a night at 3:00, so that we would have energy for our planned excursion to the pyramids the next day.

We said good night to our very gentlemanly escorts and went up to bed. Though I was thoroughly exhausted, my mind did not rest. I thought and thought of all the events of the past two days and could not calm myself enough to sleep. I was too excited about our plans for the next day to stop thinking. I eventually dozed some, but was wide awake in time for breakfast (the first and only time I had breakfast in Cairo).

Day three began with Danielle feeling much better. We met in the dining room and chatted over some dry croissants and hard boiled eggs. Danielle said the fresh squeezed orange juice was the best she’d ever had, but I stuck to my bottled water. As we chatted, one of the hotel employees kept smiling at us and calling our names. He didn’t know much other English, so he kept smiling, calling our names, and shaking our hands.

During breakfast, I got a call from the travel agent, Badr. He was arranging a Nile dinner cruise for us and had a surprise. Would we like to perform on the boat? Would we?!!! Unfortunately for me, I didn’t have a costume as my new purchase was still being fitted, but Daleela did and volunteered.

I waited in my room for the driver for our excursion to the pyramids to show up. Today was the sabbath and fascinating things were occurring outside my window. The streets began filling with prayer rugs, then men took off their shoes and prayed in the street. The voice over the loud speaker reached people from all over. I watched as women just like me leaned over watching too.

Once we realized the driver would not arrive in time for us to make our cruise, we scrapped our plans and took off for Khan el Khalili where I did some shopping for Zaghareet’s Boutique. Things were in abundance and were of nice quality, so I was happy.

There were also lots of things I might have been interested in had I not had to bother with the bartering. Greetings of “Welcome to Cairo” made me really feel welcome, but the more aggressive hawkers who said things like, “How can I take your money” kept my money in my pocket.

Food was always a primary concern on this trip, as we never knew where we would find it or when we would be eating again. We were starving by 4:00 p.m. and were delighted when we ran across a small restaurant. We squeezed into the fragile looking, doll-sized chairs and checked out the scenery. The occupants of the tables near us stared through kohl lined eyes. We didn’t know what to make of that at first, but when we smiled and they smiled back, we figured out that they were just curious. A child ventured a shy, “Hello” then broke up into laughter when we responded. With the success of the first child, the rest wanted to get a chance to speak, and did so whenever they could catch our eyes.

Our food took a long time to arrive. The overworked cook unceremoniously plopped a few dishes onto the table in front of us. Hummous and bread with salad again. We were hungry, so we didn’t care too much. A little while later, some blackened fowl arrived. It looked a bit like chicken, but smaller. Maybe pigeon? I don’t know for sure, but I was fairly certain it was poultry, and thus edible. We shared some animated, getting-to-know-you conversation, then wiped the last greasy bits from our fingers, satisfied with the company and the food. As we passed the two groups seated nearest us, we made sure to say “good-bye” in English, bringing embarrassed blushes to their faces and smiles all around.

Rushing once again, we hurriedly returned to the hotel and dressed for the cruise. We decided to meet in the hotel bar. As I stood around waiting for the rest of the crew to join me, the hotel employees and some bar patrons began telling me “Madame Fifi” stories. (It seemed word got around quickly that we would be seeing her tonight). “Oh yes, she paid 5 million in taxes last year.” “She feeds the homeless and hungry”. “If you want to sleep with her, you have to marry her. She’s been married 5 times, you know.” Fifi was certainly well known in this group.

As we rode in the mini van provided by the tour group to the cruise ship, I could not help but feel like Cinderella. Everything was so beautiful, it must be a dream!

Since our escorts, Kevin and Dave, were working late that night, they met us at the cruise ship. We stood by the fountains taking pictures, permanent reminders that this night really did happen!

Although I was told it was a five star cruise, I was surprised to find luxury and comfort aboard. We smoothly departed the dock and began our dreamy journey on the Nile Pharoahs. The darkness cloaked the dirt and noise of the city and the lights twinkled gaily as if only for our enjoyment. I looked around the table knowing what a special night this was and realizing that I would never forget the night or the ones I shared it with. Happily, I smiled inside, feeling lucky to be right there.

Our fellow passengers signaled that it was time to eat, so we helped ourselves from the buffet. There was quite a spread of mainly American type foods, though not quite American. Despite the lovely way it was laid out and the beautiful environment in which to enjoy it, the food was just okay. It really didn’t matter too much though. I was still having so much fun. Gazing out the window at the thousand lights, I closed my eyes and smiled. I was on the Nile!

The dancer from the boat came on about half way through the cruise. She looked a bit bored and so did the band, but it was still exciting for us because Kevin and Dave, had still not seen a belly dancer! This was their first, so it was a pleasure watching them watch the dancer. The dancer performed two sets- one with a cane, and she brought some Japanese tourists on stage to dance with her. They were quite a hoot! It was an incredibly good time.

Next was Daleela’s turn. She bounded out full of energy, her veil flowing behind her. She seemed nervous, excited, joyous, and in control. She played with the audience and enjoyed the music. And too soon it was over. We were pulling near port already!

The last entertainment act was a dervish. Though he did many of the same things we’d seen the night before, it was not the same. This seemed more of a tourist show than something spiritual. Despite being residents of Cairo, Kevin and Dave had not seen the dervish show either, so they were quite impressed with this guy. And to his favor, his technique was impressive, but to me, he was a man in a skirt whereas the Tannoura were something else entirely.

We left the boat excited about our invitation to Fifi’s show, but that was not to be. When we arrived, we were surprised to find that there was no show. No musicians, no singers, no Fifi, no patrons. We were told that Fifi’s mother was ill and the show was cancelled. Though we were disappointed, we were not about to call it a night. There were other good dancers, and we would see them!

Our tips on who was dancing and where did not turn out to be so accurate. We ended up at Lucy’s club, La Parisiana, but Lucy was not dancing that night (she was there the night before and would be the next night). No matter, there was a dancer, and we would check her out.

As usual, there was a singer performing when we came in. Jasmine (not the British dancer) came out to an almost empty house. She was bored, but danced excellently from the neck down. I watched her with interest, even though she lacked energy. With such a small crowd, I could certainly understand it. I don’t know why she bothered getting anyone up from the crowd with it being so dead. Maybe we looked like tourists, and she thought we’d like being made fools of. Anyway, she chose me and Dave.

Though Dave would not dance at Jackie’s, he was quite the sport here. He wiggled in imitation of what he thought we looked like and did not look as if he wanted to stop. I thought Jasmine would split a seam watching him. She laughed and laughed, as we all did.

I also thought that she would not want to share the stage with someone who could dance, so after a minute or two, I started to sit down. She grabbed my arm and wouldn’t let go, so I enjoyed my time on stage with her. She did a move, I copied her. She did something else, I followed. She tried to speak to me, but I don’t think she knew too much English, and I, of course knew only how to say, “no, yes, and thank-you” in Arabic, so we contented ourselves with smiling. I think she enjoyed it as much as I did.

Our cab ride back to the hotel was more adventurous than ever. Even though there were not many people on the road at 3:00 a.m., the driver found a way to make us feel as if we were risking our lives.

When we got back to the hotel, Mohamed, a hotel employee, was waiting for us. He had been keeping an eye on us making sure the three American women were safe. He wanted to play “dancer” with us (he’d been showing us dance moves and imitating all the famous dancers for our pleasure), but we were simply too exhausted. Another thrilling end to another thrilling day.
Day four arrived too late for breakfast, and I was starving! We didn’t have anything planned for today because we wanted to relax. The hectic pace was running us ragged. Though we didn’t want to miss a thing, we also didn’t want to make ourselves sick. A dance class would have been nice, but it couldn’t be arranged, so we just kind of hung out. The main concern was food. The novelty of eating in diesel fumed places with people staring sweetly at us was wearing off for me, so we thought we’d find something edible in a nice hotel. We found an American style restaurant at the Flamenco Cairo and order grilled cheese, a tuna sandwich, and a club sandwich. Though it wasn’t quite the same as home, food never tasted so good.

Over lunch, Danielle, Daleela, and I discussed what we wanted to do that night. We tossed around the idea of going to a movie and decided that seeing a movie in an Egyptian move theater sounded like a proper adventure. But, first things first. We hooked up with our British escorts again, Malkie, Kevin, and Dave and were off to the bazaar again. The vendors and passers-by were enthralled with Danielle’s blonde hair. She smiled and spoke to every one of them. There were calls of “Samia” as we walked by. Ah, she was remembered from our other trips here!

While at Mahmoud Abdel Gheffar’s place, someone called my name. I looked up and saw none other than Hossam Ramzy! Small world indeed! We saw Dina, Fifi, and now Hossam. Everyone was suitably impressed to be in the presence of musical genius.
The trek to the bazaar took more time than we’d thought. We were welcomed to Cairo many times, offered tea, and were left to fended off some of the more ambitious pursuers of our affection. Danielle and Daleela bought music from several vendors. Dave impressed us with his expert haggling for a replica museum piece. We wandered around sniffing perfume oils and looking at various items. After all that activity, we found it was too late for the movies, so we were at a loss for things to do. Danielle was tired and decided to call it a night, but Daleela and I had not had our fill of the Egyptian night. Since we had missed out on our trip to the pyramids, the thought of seeing them at night was simply too much to pass up.

After donning clothes suitable for the cool desert and packing a bag, we sped off towards Giza. The driver seemed to have some difficulty grasping the idea that we wanted to go to the pyramids after dark. He stopped in front of a nightclub on Pyramid street. No, that was not it. He stopped in front of the Mena House. No, that was not where we wanted to go either. Finally, when we could go no further, some guards pointed us to an unlit area off the street. The driver looked at us with a puzzled glance as if to say, “You want to get out here?” He shrugged his shoulders, took his payment, and drove away.
In the silence and darkness, I wondered to myself if this was such a good idea. I thought we were going to be robbed and dumped off in a deserted area, but they were only interested in settling on a price for a trek in the desert! Since we were in Egypt, I shouldn’t have been surprised.

They took us into a small, dark room where strangely scented smoke swirled around the air. A short, dark man offered us drinks and made small talk interspersed with negotiations. He asked if we were interested in meditation, drugs, watching the sunrise, or what? We just wanted to see the pyramids.

After agreeing upon a price, we were driven to the stables while we waited for our horses. After a few minutes, we were told that horses were not available because it was too cold, so we’d have to ride camels. Okay, camels have to do. As we mounted our ships of the desert, I laughed inside at the ridiculousness of me being on a camel, who’s behind is swaying like Marilyn Monroe’s, going to see the pyramids.

The humor of it changed to awe and wonder as we passed silently (silence in Cairo!) through the residential alleyways. The air took on a feeling of timelessness as I saw the same scenes people must have stared at a thousand years ago. I told Daleela, I wouldn’t be surprised if Jesus himself came walking up to us! It was that mystical.

But things only got more intense. Within the batting of an eye, the city became sand and disappeared behind us. The first grains of sand seemed like the familiar beach I know from home, but these were the largest dunes I had ever seen and the beach was by far the most expansive. Everywhere you looked was sand and silence.

Just as I was getting used to the wobbly gait of the camel, a man came running across the desert and mounted my camel! Now, I would have to share a ride with this fool? I dreaded enduring the inevitable compliments to my eyes and brown skin. Perhaps I would be spared the marriage proposal. (sigh)

The night was chilly. Light from an unseen source reflected off the sand giving us just enough luminescence to see by. Mist surrounded us like a dreamy, protective haze. Suddenly, crouching in the desert appeared the Sphinx! It sat unperturbed and uncaring of our passing, not knowing how deeply the passing was affecting me.

We all rode on lost in our own thoughts. Then out of the darkness came more travelers. Ah! I thought we’d hit upon such a unique and thrilling adventure, and here were people with the same great idea. They passed us without so much as a word, as if they too were caught in the mystery of this wonderful, indescribable place and were afraid to break the spell with words.

We plodded along some more, then out of the mist peeked the shadow of the first pyramid. The mist moved a little and more was revealed. Then two pyramids. Then three. As we got closer, we could see the baby pyramids along side. Oh, the sight of it caused goose flesh and overwhelmed me with my smallness. If ever there was a moment when words were inadequate, this was it.

I jumped off my camel as soon as I could (determined NOT so share my mount on the way back, thank-you very much) and sat gazing at the majesty I saw before me. We sat there a while in awe, not really saying anything, just experiencing!
Our guides and an armed guard stood unobtrusively by while we delighted in the night. Dave sat near me picking in the sand. I thought he was just running his hands in the sand, but then he presented me with a small, round rock. I took it, wondering what was its significance. Dave explained that this was no ordinary rock. This was the perfect specimen, chosen from all the jagged ones. This one was a piece of the pyramids which came from the floor of the Sahara! Daleela proclaimed him a poet.

A few moments later, we decided we wanted to climb a pyramid- the big one! They told us it was not possible, but we could climb a slightly smaller one. After paying the guide, we crept toward the languishing stone beast.

In the darkness of its shadow, it was hard to tell what a feat we’d set up for ourselves. Each step was between knee and waist high, so it was no easy climb. Loose dirt and rocks, combined with low visibility threatened to unbalance us, plunging us to our deaths like so many daredevils before us. Daleela climbed confidently, though barefoot, while I was cautious and a bit scared.

I stopped a few times to scare myself even more by simply looking around. The sheer height was enormous. If I could have seen how high we’d come, I’m sure I would have stopped long before the top was reached.

Reaching the top made it all worth while. The soft breeze coming from the desert, as we sat atop a pyramid, alone in the Sahara, gave me a feeling of timelessness like I have never before experienced. My breath slowed to normal, and I closed my eyes intent on capturing the magic of the night through meditation, but the guide rushed us down so quickly that I could only get a few breaths. Too soon we began our descent.

After only a few steps down, more guards came out yelling and flashing lights on us. My heartbeat quickened, sure that we’d be arrested and in some third world jail by morning. The guide told us to be quiet and get down. We squatted a while, then moved on. Then, I caught on. This was another attempt at getting more money!

Still descending butt-first, the guards called out in friendly tones. They greeted us with alcohol on their breath, wet kisses, and clumsy embraces, but were forcefully repelled. Once they realized they were getting neither money nor affection, they left us alone.

Trudging through the Sahara back to our camels, I couldn’t imagine a better way to see the pyramids. Lost in the ecstacy of the moment, and dreading the reality the morning and western life would bring, I wanted to clutch that camel to me and never let go. Each plodding step took me further away from the wonder.

We got back to the safety of our hotel only after listening to the spiel of the perfume seller and another death defying taxi ride. At 5:00, I reluctantly let go of the night and succumbed to sleep.

Day five. I woke depressed. I didn’t know if I wanted to do something or do nothing. I had to pick up my costume from Madame Hekmat, so I went to do that while waiting for the other girls to get up and get dressed. The taxi driver didn’t know where he was going, so I ended up at another designer’s place and found some beautiful costuming. Madame was luckily very near by, so I didn’t have any further problems. Since it wasn’t far from the hotel, I decided to walk back and was unmolested.

Danielle was ready to go to the bazaar, so we took yet another trip. The vendors were quite taken with her, her friendliness, and her blonde hair. They were getting quite aggressive in their comments, but she handled them nicely.

Starving once again, we were fortunate to find a driver who asked if we wanted to go to “Kentucky.” After a minute or two, we realized “Kentucky” was Kentucky Fried Chicken. Would we!? Armed with cash and dangerous, we scoped out the restaurant and brought some precious food back to the hotel where we ate with Daleela. We rested a bit, then a few hours later set out for Pizza Hut. (We were getting aggressive in our pursuit for food).

Pizza Hut was an adventure in itself. So much was just like being at home- except that we don’t have prawn or eggplant on pizza. The music was American. The Pepsi was American though with Arabic writing on the cans. The staff spoke English and stood a respectful distance away with questions on their faces. Once invited over, (these girls are friendly!), they were very open and willing to talk to us about Cairo. Though I was having the time of my life, I was happy to find some familiarity in this place.

Tonight was my last night. I was feeling overwhelmed, depressed, incredibly lucky, relieved, sad, hopeful, and so many other things. I took a long time packing my way overstuffed suitcases and wanted to be alone to wallow in my misery. When I went to the lobby, I found Danielle, Daleela, Mohamed, and another hotel employee trying to make merry. There was a little dancing going on, but I could not get in the mood. It was all too sad for me. When I paid my hotel bill and plunked my overweight bags down and waited for the taxi, I sighed with confusion. How could I let go of this wonderful land? There was still so much to do, see, and experience, yet at the same time I hated the stressful way of bartering, getting around, and dealing with pawing men. Such confusion… and it didn’t matter because my taxi was here.

Dealing with the cab driver annoyed me. He wanted me to pay him 80 pounds for the ride! (My hotel was only 68 per night, and I paid a over inflated 40 pounds to get from the airport). I argued with him for a while, then went to catch my plane. Inside the terminal a guy lifted my bags off a SmartCart and took off with them, like he was helping me. He was mumbling, “Gimasumony”, which confounded me to no end. I couldn’t get my bags back. Then I realized he was saying, “Give me some money!” I was really irritated at his boldness and insistence. I was glad to put this Cairo behind me.

As the plane’s wheel lifted off the ground, I looked out at all the lights and felt the aliveness of the city (even at 4:00 a.m.). I was still bristling at the brazenness of the cab driver and the man in the airport, but despite that, I felt a longing to return. A longing that has only gotten stronger with each day that passes without me there. I welcomed the English speaking, bright, clean, hotdog smelling Detriot airport, but still could not escape my desire for Egypt. (sigh) Five days in Egypt had changed me completely.

I love Cairo. I hate Cairo. Every day was a gift from God. Each moment assaulted my senses in ways I never knew possible. Just as I thought I had experienced the pinnacle of human expression, something happened to eclipse that. Every day brought special moments that by themselves would have made the trip worthwhile. I dream of Cairo and cannot wait to return. I want to sit on the Sahara sand and watch the pyramids forever. I want to feel the smallness of my Self in the vastness of the desert. I want to touch the people that touched me. I want to be overcome by the joy the dancers feel when they shimmy on stage. I want to fill with hope that that dancer could be me. I want to be in Cairo!

My deliverance from despair comes from knowing this experience lives and breathes within me, can never be taken away or diminished, and that I will always return. I cannot escape Egypt’s grasp and will welcome her embrace again and again.

Luxor has been a popular tourist destination for centuries. Ancient Greeks and Romans traveled to the famed city for its warm climate and spectacular architecture. At the height of its magnificence, the city of Luxor had a million inhabitants, but around 30 BC, the Romans smashed the city to bits in retaliation for a revolt in Upper Egypt. Annual floods, sand storms, and natives scavenging the temple stones for building materials continued the destruction. It wasn’t until the early 18th century that the glory of Luxor was rediscovered and restored, bringing tourists back to the beautiful city.

The “must-see” sites are many. Any serious tourist should plan to stay at least two days just to see the major sites. While it is possible to see more in that short period of time, stopping at more than two or three sites per day can create the effect of “temple burn-out” where everything starts to look the same and lose its significance.

The major sites on the East Bank are the temples of Luxor and Karnak. The Luxor Temple sits on the waterfront in the center of town, dominating the city. Built primarily by Imhotep III as a tribute to the god, Amun, visitors approach the entrance by an avenue of sphinxes which originally spanned the distance between Luxor and Karnak (1.2 miles away).

The temple attracts scientists and new age believers because of its mathematical precision. Some suggest that ancient Egyptians, not ancient Greeks, were the fathers of modern civilization, pointing to the technical and geometry knowledge shown in the original construction and the subsequent additions. This temple has been hailed as a beacon of harmony, proportion and symbolism. Although lovely from any vantage point, it is most spectacular when lit up at night.

The Temple of Karnak could not be more different. Karnak is not just a temple, but a complex. Begun in the 11th Dynasty as a modest temple to Amun, pharaohs for the next 1300 years added to it, creating the most important Pharaonic site after the Great Pyramids. The 100 acre site contains a vast array of courts, halls, colossi, and a huge sacred lake. Excavation was begun in the mid-19th century and continues to this day. An hour inside the complex would only get you a glance at the magnificence of Karnak.

While many Egyptian artifacts have been sent all over the world, the Luxor Museum houses what some consider to be the best of the best of Middle Kingdom sculpture. Unlike the Egyptian Museum in Cairo, each piece is displayed in a soothing atmosphere and given its own space. Each item is thoroughly and accurately described. Three floors of displays span the Predynastic to Coptic periods.

The East Bank offers two shopping areas, the old souk and the new souk. The new souk caters to tourists and runs parallel to the old souk. Both offer souvenirs, fruit, vegetables, spices, brass, alabaster, and jewelry. Animals, carts, and shoppers crowd the street making it a hectic, but interesting way to spend a few hours.

The West Bank is the “land of the dead.” New Kingdom pharaohs built their tombs here in an attempt to keep their treasure safe from looters. Their mortuary temples were also built here to honor and glorify themselves and Amun. Queens and nobles also made their tombs here.

The tan landscape is rugged and monotonous, never hinting of the brightly colored corridors that lay underground. The entry to most tombs is steep with colorful scenes painted on the walls designed to either show the dead king’s glorious deeds in life or to help him through the afterlife. Chambers off the main corridor usually stored treasure for the king to use in death. The burial chamber itself held the sarcophagus and mummy of the king. While a trip to the tombs is fascinating, the tombs are often crowded, hard to maneuver in, and lacking in fresh air. I don’t recommend it for claustrophobic people.

One of the most beautiful mortuary temples is that of Egypt’s only female pharaoh, Queen Hatshepsut. This vast structure was partially cut into the stone mountainside which provides a majestic backdrop and creates a breathtaking view. Much of the original paint from the detailed murals remains vivid and alive. The massive statues of Hatshepsut as a man line on the upper terrace presenting an imposing sight. The temple continues to undergo reconstruction, and more of it is open to tourists all the time.

Another impressive mortuary temple is the Ramesseum, built for pharaoh Ramses II and dedicated to Amun. While mostly in ruins, the site is still awe inspiring. The huge, fallen statues of Ramses loudly speak of the ancients’ artistry. The extensive mudbrick storehouses attest to the large numbers of people who lived and worked here.

The Colossi of Memnon guard the now destroyed mortuary temple of Amenhotep III. These 60 foot high statues are thought to be the largest ever built in Egypt and are all that remain of this temple. These statues were tourist attractions in ancient times as one of the pair was said to whistle at sunrise. This phenomenon was likely caused the damaged sustained in an earthquake as it stopped once it was repaired. Despite the loss of this novelty, the size and beauty of these statues continue to attract tourists.

There are many other sites that visitors can see in Luxor, such as the temple of Medinat Habu- a temple second in size only to Karnak, Howard Carter’s house (the discoverer of Tut’s tomb), the villages of Gurna, the temple of Seti I, and the Mummification Museum. Carriage rides and felucca trips are other pleasant ways to spend an evening. With such a wide variety of things to see and do, it is a shame to see Egypt and miss Luxor. It really is a jewel of the Nile.

I got several positive comments about my last article, “How to Lose Friends and Alienate Prospects” which was about all the wrong things to do when you are cold prospecting for workshop jobs. I was asked, “Hey, what about all the things that sponsors do wrong! Can you write an article about that?” So, here it is: How to Be the Belly Dance Sponsor from Hell.

Don’t Check With Other Belly Dance Sponsors Before Booking Your Event

What difference does it make if your event is within a week of someone else’s? After all, it’s a free country. People can decide where they want to spend their money. If that means they can’t support both events, that’s not your fault. It’s also not your fault if the other sponsor wants to cop an attitude with you about it either. She’s never liked you and wasn’t going to support your event anyway so why do anything nice for her?

Find Out Who Other Belly Dance Sponsors Want to Bring In Then Beat Them to the Punch

If another teacher wants to bring in “Sheherezade” in October, invite her out in June. You can take advantage of the publicity the other sponsor has already generated and use it to your advantage. Most teachers aren’t geographically savvy enough to know that your location is close to the other workshop and could hurt the other sponsor’s turn out, so there is little fear that the teacher will decline your offer. You can also justify this by not having Sheherezade teach the same topic. I mean, students go to workshops to learn specific topics, not to see a particular teacher. What difference does it make whose teaching?

Use Only Flyers for Advertising

If the instructor is good, she will be able to pull people in. In fact, you are counting on that and that’s why you didn’t waste your time on online or print advertising. Flyers are good enough. It doesn’t matter that you have a small mailing list. You will count on people to tell other people and the teacher to contact her followers. You chose a big name because you expect that people will just drop everything and change their plans to be at your event. Isn’t that part of the benefit of having a big name? If the teacher is working for a percentage, this is even better because you have nothing to lose.

Book Your Facility Just Before the Event So That You Don’t Lose Your Deposit if You Have To Cancel

Be conservative. Don’t spend any money that you don’t have to. You know that workshops are a poor investment, so wait until the last minute to pay for anything so that your losses are less if you have to cancel. Trust your luck that an affordable, adequate facility will be available just in case the workshop does go on. If you advertise your location without actually booking it, trust that your potential attendees and the teacher will contact you, not the facility, for information about the event. A friend/instructor told me that she contacted a theater where she was supposed to perform only to find out that the sponsor had never confirmed that date. Don’t worry about that happening to you. What are the odds of anyone ever checking that kind of stuff?

Let the Teacher Take Care of Herself

Teachers travel all the time. They know how to get around strange cities and can fend for themselves. In fact, they probably have friends everywhere. For example, one teacher came to my city and wasn’t picked at the airport upon her arrival. She knew I lived close by so she called me to come get her. See? Everything worked out fine.

Be Short Tempered With Everybody and Don’t Return Phone Calls

Everybody knows that the belly dance sponsor is expected to be the business manager, stage manager, show producer, graphic designer, and hostess. They don’t expect the sponsor to be gracious and accessible under all that pressure. If you leave people alone long enough, they will find the answers on their own and leave you to take care of your own business.

Ask the Teacher for Things That Were Not Discussed in Advance

A good teacher is flexible, knowledgeable and can pull things out of a hat. It should be no problem that you forgot to ask for X, or that it just occurred to you that Y would be a fabulous addition to the workshop. That’s what professionals do.

Make Money Your Bottom Line

The teacher understands that you are working with a budget, so put her up at your house. She has dealt with animals, small babies, a crowded household, small spaces, and dirty laundry before. Traveling as she does, she must get it all the time. I am sure that it won’t interfere with her ability to rest, teach, or perform. She’s a pro, after all.

If You Are Working on a Percentage, Spend Lavishly on Things That Aren’t Necessary

Image is everything. You want your workshop and show to look fantastic. Provide snacks for the participants. Bring in staging, lights, professional sound equipment, and a dj to run it all. Your guests deserve the best and you will have a reputation for putting on incredible shows. Never mind that your attendance doesn’t justify the added expense. Negotiating the instructor’s fee for a percentage after expenses means that you got a teacher for a fraction of her regular rate, so you can afford the extras. It’s not your fault that she agreed to a bum deal.

Once the Workshop is Completed, Renegotiate the Fee in Your Favor

This is especially a good idea if the teacher failed to bring in the number of students that you anticipated. It’s all her fault, so why shouldn’t she take a financial hit too? This might not build good business relations between the two of you, but you don’t plan to bring her back anyway. She bombed!

As the belly dance sponsor of over thirty events, I know what it’s like to be the only one responsible for so many people and so many decisions. As a workshop instructor, I also know what it’s like to work with sponsors. I am lucky enough to say that I have never worked with a sponsor from hell, but many of my friends have. Sometimes it is due to ignorance, but often it is due to the sponsor being inconsiderate, not planning well, or simply not putting themselves in the shoes of the teacher. The easiest way to avoid being The Sponsor From Hell is to ask yourself, “How would I feel if I were on the receiving end of this” before making a decision. If you are still in doubt, discuss the issue with the person who would be affected most by the decision. The dance world is a small place. When you are difficult to work with, word gets around. For a long lasting, successful, sponsor career, respect your instructor and others in your dance community.

I was recently contacted by a stranger who was interested in having me sponsor her. The experience was the perfect example of what not to do when you are cold prospecting for employment. I share this experience to alert others on how to lose friends and alienate prospects. Here’s what you do.

Be Unprepared

Assume that a prospective employer who doesn’t know you will to ask for the standard stuff: work experience, references, demos, photos, and any other supporting information that can verify that you are who you say you are and can do the things you say you can. Annoy your prospect by being unprepared to provide these things in a nicely packaged, easy to navigate way.

Be Vague

It’s okay to be vague in an introduction. You don’t want to tell your life story to someone who isn’t interested, but once the prospect says, “Tell me more,” most want specific information. Ignore that! Especially if there are repeated requests.

Just say you can teach “everything.” Don’t have a list of classes offered with titles, descriptions, materials required, pre-requisites required, target audience, and the length of each class. Make the prospect guess what you are good at and how long it will take to teach the subject of your choice.

Tell her that you have taught “everywhere.” Don’t give names of people who have sponsored you. Don’t supply dates and locations. Since you assume everyone has heard of you, she will take your word for it.

Procrastinate

Make your prospect wait for follow-up. This will really make you look like you want the job and can go a great job!

Be Irrelevant

If you are trying to get a job teaching Middle Eastern dance, talk about your experience as an actor, your academic credentials, your modern dance experience or how much you love belly dance. The prospect is sure to see why that makes you qualified to teach belly dance. While you are at it, drop names of people you know in common who have nothing to do with belly dance. That is sure to help you make a connection.

Provided Out-dated Information

The best way to document your twenty-five year old career is to give twenty-five year old references. What you did twenty-five years ago demonstrates no growth or where your current strengths lie, but don’t worry. Remember, she will take your word for it.

Give References That Can’t Be Checked

While you are providing old references, make sure that at least one of them is for someone illustrious who is no longer with us. The rest should be for big name people for whom you have no contact information. If your luck holds out, she won’t have contact information for them either and the names you drop will be so impressive that she won’t even check to see if they know you.

Provide Misleading Information

If you performed in a workshop show, go ahead and list the teacher as a reference. After all, it’s true that the teacher was there when you danced at the show. Don’t worry that that the teacher may not have actually seen you perform or that performance has nothing to do with your ability to teach. With luck, that the connection will never be made.

If You Are Offered Less Than You Wanted, Be Insulted

Why accept a slot in a show if the prospect feels you are not worthy of a teaching slot? While it could mean that the sponsor is trying to get to know you and leave the door open for future opportunity, forget that. Small time offers are beneath you. It’s all or nothing!

When You Are Not Offered the Job, Be Rude to the Sponsor

If you are not offered a job, your talent is obviously being overlooked. Character obviously means nothing to this lady. It’s natural that your feelings are hurt, so you’re perfectly justified in blasting the sponsor for leading you on. Lecture her on how to behave professionally. Berate her for being suspicious because she actually checked your references. Read sinister things into her behavior, then burn your bridges. She’s not ever going to hire you anyway. The chances are slim that she will ever tell anyone about what happened or that anyone will ever ask her if they know you, so what the heck?

If you don’t want to lose friends and alienate prospects, the solution is easy. Just do the opposite of everything listed above: be prepared, be specific, be timely, keep it relevant, current, and factual. Provide references that can be contacted, are current, and can vouch for the abilities that you are advertising.

Remain upbeat and professional throughout the contact. Getting an offer to do something is a sign that the contact wants to work with you in some capacity. This could lead to better offers later.

Don’t be a mind-reader. There are many reasons why you might not get a job right then. The lack of an offer may have nothing to do with you or the material you submitted. If you are polite and professional, that leaves the door open for that sponsor to contact you later or recommend you to someone else who may be able to use your services.

The belly dance community is very small. Tales of ugly deeds are frequently spread among friends. When you alienate one person, it’s quite likely that you are alienating more. To keep your career healthy and long, behave professionally and give others the benefit of the doubt. If your credentials are indeed impressive, and your attitude professional, you won’t unnoticed.